Oh, how manytimes did I take my dumb life in my hands and shove itdown deep between my thighs so no one wouldsee it. — Carrie Fountain, from “Hottest Summer on Record,” Better, Issue 4.
when you lie awake in the eveningscounting your birthdaysturn the blood that clots on your tongueinto poems. poems. — Lucille Clifton, from “The Message of Thelma Sayles,” Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000. (BOA Editions Ltd. April 1, 2000)
‘Yes, Anais, I was thinking how I could betray you, but I can’t. I want you. I want to undress you, vulgarize you a bit—ah, I don’t know what I am saying. I am a little drunk because you are not here. I would like to clap my hands and, voila—Anais! I want to own… Continue reading Henry Miller
I don’t remember yesterdayand there is no tomorrow.There is only the momentthe knife descendsfrom the equatorial dark. — Ai, from “The Detective,” Vice: New and Selected Poems. (W. W. Norton & Company; 1st ed. edition June 17, 2000)
But you can’t give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That’s how you’ll end up, Mr Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You’ll… Continue reading Truman Capote
The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the wordsget it all wrong. We say bread and it means accordingto which nation. French has no word for home,and we have no… Continue reading Jack Gilbert
Loneliness is like sitting in an empty room and being aware of the space around you. It is acondition of separateness. Solitude is becoming one with the space around you. It is a condition of union. Loneliness is small, solitude is large. Loneliness closes in around you; solitude expands toward the infinite. Loneliness has its… Continue reading Kent Nerburn